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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23696401">please don't move a muscle</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blake/pseuds/Blake'>Blake</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>30 Days of Depeche Mode Bagginshield ficlets [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works &amp; Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bag End, Domesticity, Fluff, Frodo - Freeform, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:13:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>694</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23696401</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blake/pseuds/Blake</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo has a hard time winding down after a busy day at Bag End.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>30 Days of Depeche Mode Bagginshield ficlets [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1705147</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>61</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>please don't move a muscle</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Are you sure you don’t want to move back to Erebor?” Bilbo shuts the door to their bedroom behind him with quiet, careful movements. In the dim candlelight, he looks like a burglar—a burglar trying not to wake the child in the next room for the third time that night. “I rather like the sound of discarding all responsibilities and being waited on like a close, personal friend of the King.”</p><p>Thorin stretches his tired limbs, taking up more space in the bed even as he peels the sheet back to invite Bilbo in. “Oh, are you a close, personal friend of Fili’s?” He wiggles his toes against the soft sheets, which he washed himself that morning. He revels in the sensations of not being a king.</p><p>Instead of taking the offered place in the bed, Bilbo perches at the foot of it and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands, looking very exhausted indeed. “Maybe we should send Frodo to Erebor. Let our nephews fend for themselves or each other. Out of sight, out of mind, they say. Let them eat cake before bed. Except—oh, Kili would be a bad influence indeed. I can’t have my name associated with Dwarvish manners.”</p><p>“I’m sorry your evening was so trying.” Thorin sits up and shuffles close enough to rub Bilbo’s shoulders through his nightshirt. Their life is simple and easy, but he can still feel the tension in Bilbo’s body from the strain of managing a harvest and making preparations for a dual birthday party and learning to parent a child he never expected to have in his life. “I could sing <i>you</i> to sleep,” he offers, smiling against the pointed tip of Bilbo’s ear. He has tried to put Frodo to sleep after his nightmares before, but the lad only grows wide-eyed and alert, desperate to hear more about the strange creatures in the songs and stories Thorin sings. </p><p>Bilbo makes a high, trapped noise in his throat and goes red. “No, thank you.” Thorin wants to nuzzle in deeper and seek out the origin of Bilbo’s resistance to the idea, but Bilbo wriggles away and starts pacing the room. “Gamgee is coming bright and early tomorrow and I need to tell him that I decided to put the lettuce where the cabbage was meant to be, and the other way around. Maybe I should write him a note, in case I don’t wake up in time.” </p><p>He starts rifling through his bedside table, presumably looking for a pen and paper, which he is too tired to realize are very unlikely to be there. Thorin darts out a hand to grab Bilbo’s wrist and tug him finally in between the sheets.</p><p>“If you would not have me sing, then let me wait on you, as though you were a close, personal friend of the King.”</p><p>Bilbo’s body grows beautifully heavy in Thorin’s arms. He wiggles his nose, the way he does when he’s fighting off a feeling he doesn’t want to show. “What precisely does that entail?” he asks haughtily.</p><p>Thorin takes a kiss from his lips and then curls onto his side, easily molding Bilbo’s body into the same shape against him. “For you, it entails doing absolutely nothing,” he promises. His eyelids grow heavy as his hand drifts down to Bilbo’s thigh, pushing his nightshirt up under the blankets. Tired as he is, he is determined to distract Bilbo from his troubles and make him feel waited upon before sleeping and waking up to a whole new day of tasks to fuss over. “Just lie still.”</p><p>Bilbo’s narrow hips shift backwards into him, searching and greedy. Thorin holds him in place with a hand on his hip. “I said <i>still</i>,” he admonishes, though he’s too tired to keep the laughter from his voice.</p><p>“Hmph,” Bilbo says, settling more heavily against the bed, digging his head into the pillow he has made of Thorin’s arm. Finally lying still, he lets Thorin pet his hair with one hand, stroke his side up and down with the other, and press a kiss to the knob at the top of his spine.</p>
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